A Face Makes Promises
Pale beauty, I adore your curving brows
That pour a darkness through the room;
Your eyes, though black, inspire thoughts and vows
Not altogether full of gloom.
Your eyes, that speak in consort with your hair,
Elastic mane of raven hues,
Your eyes in languor tell me: 'If you'd care,
O lover of the plastic muse,
To exercise the fancies you profess
And all the hopes we've raised, you'll find
You may go down, to prove our faithfulness,
From navel to the cheeks behind;
There'll be a pair of lovely, heavy breasts,
Bronze medals tipping each of these;
Below a belly, velvet to caress,
As tawny as a Japanese,
Twines a rich fleece, true sister in delight
Of those great, supple locks that are
The head of hair - your match in thickness, Night!
O shrouded Night without a star!'
Přeložil James McGowan